


Come the Spring

by deawrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Adultery, Alternate Universe, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: Jim was the Prince of Gotham until a lost battle changes his life forever.





	Come the Spring

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> All kudos, comments, criticisms, suggestions, questions welcome.
> 
> For my wife. The reason I #AKF

**One**

He didn’t set out to be arrogant. Yet with his station it was difficult not to feel a little superior to those around him. His father was not only the wealthiest man in Gotham, but the one with the most political influence and leadership opportunities as well. Jim’s parents ruled Gotham justly as possible, while still filling the coffers with necessary funds to protect the realm. Jim was highly educated, well trained in military strategy and techniques, in merchant supply chain sales and most of all, law. While he ability he lacked practical experience, something that could not be only explained away by his youth. While he strolled the farms and trading stalls just outside of the fortress walls with compassion, it didn’t mean that he understood the every day struggles of the people as well as he believed he did. He was prideful, naïve, and short-sighted worst of all. He was appointed to fight under the captain of the guard when another warlord/king threatened to attack Gotham’s lands. His father said the appointment was to broaden his political and battle horizons, while his mother was more practical. She wanted him to learn to obliterate and then control outsiders to the will of Gotham; and to the will of its royal family, the Gordon’s.

 

When the battle was over, Jim found himself at the mercy of the enemy; surrendering himself in hopes of a ransom being negotiated so that he might return home, humbled, and ashamed, yet very much alive and unscathed. His intentions were dashed however, as the warlord had no interest in hostage negotiations; his coffers full enough from the acquisition of lands his people warred upon. What the warlord wished to impart was complete annihilation of the Gordon name and legacy. Jim struggled as he was dragged in chains to the dock where slaves were being loaded onto a ship. Those who were not branded were hauled to one side of the dock, Jim among them. The scent of cooking flesh and howls of anguish filled the air. The closer Jim got to his turn the more he fought, the harder he attempted to reason with his captors. He was kicked and punched for his troubles, and dragged to the stone used for branding. Jim’s face was pressed down against the smooth face of it, a glowing iron rod with a brand that would mark him ‘property’ for the rest of his days at it’s end. Jim screamed when the brand touched his face, the pain was excruciating. He barely had time to realize it was his own flesh he smelled burning, when he was jerked up from the stone and dragged to a barrel of sea water. His entire head was submerged in it, and Jim choked and sputtered as he was shoved unceremoniously up the ship’s gang plank.

 

He had been sold to a slave trader for a song, dragged from the only home; only existence; he had ever known, to be taken out to sea. There were markets to parade him through in other lands, where the pockets ran deep for a low laid ruler of a province. Jim was healthy, attractive; even with the brand upon his cheek; and placed with the young girls, women, and boys to be auctioned off to purveyors of sexual slavery. Jim might not speak the language of the slavers, but the way he was groped and ‘inspected’ were testament enough that he should fight against his shackles and work towards his own freedom.

 

Jim was a single man, had no luck, had no mercy shown to him by anyone, and was in the middle of the ocean on his way to a slave market far away from Gotham and safety. When he wasn’t being ‘ _trained’_ into service, was shackled to the oar bench and rowing until his hands bled, muscles were on fire, and beyond. He was dehydrated, underfed, abused, sexual assaulted and beaten; yet hope remained that his father would find out what happened to him and send out an army to ensure his return home.  Yet as the days wore on to weeks and he was sold to a master, hope began to dwindle within Jim’s heart. He was terribly stubborn, but foremost in his mind was figuring out what to do to survive each day without being sexually assaulted or beaten. This alone was a near impossibility, as it was out of his control and he no rights as a slave. He knew that if he could put his arrogance in check he was less likely to get beaten, however his mouth appeared to have a mind of its own. Even though he often didn’t speak the same tongue as his ‘clients’, they were smart enough to respond to the tone of Jim’s voice recognizing insults whenever he threw them out at them. Each night Jim needed new wounds and bruises tended, yet the clients continued to desire him and pay good money to use him as they pleased. As a top earner, Jim’s master was exceedingly proud of him, kept him close and well fed in comparison to other slaves under his employ. That was how Jim found himself upon another ship, this time it sailed up the coast to a brothel for a special festival in the village. Soldiers were marching through to enjoy the festivities and Jim wasn’t looking forward to their arrival. For the first time in months good fortune smiled upon him; in its way; and the ship was taken by a horrible sea storm. It sank, and he was among the only survivors. Finding himself upon the beach of a foreign land he knew not where, his priority was to drag himself to safety and hide from anyone that might seek to make him their property.

 

Jim coughed up sea water, his lungs raw and throat aching. He was incredibly thirsty, completely drenched to the core, and his head was spinning with fever. His left leg was broken and out of the hip socket. Jim drug himself towards land, only to collapse just off the beach head and into soft, grass. He stared up at the sun, eyes closing but he felt no warmth of its rays. Dizzy and bereft of hope, Jim fell unconscious as he waited for death’s hand to take him to the after world. Later, Jim’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted from the brightness of the overcast sky. A little girl’s face stared down at him, her red curls falling way past her shoulders, her deep, blue, eyes shining out from behind a wall of freckles adorning her face. She poked at him with a stick and said something that Jim could not understand.

 

“Are you alive?” Jim groaned, and she poked him repeatedly and asked, “Who are you? Did the Pixies send you?” Jim grabbed the end of the stick to keep it from continuing to prod at his ribs. “Hey! Don’t snap it, I like this stick.” Jim groaned once more and struggled to push himself off the ground into a seated position. The little girl was now placed at eye level and Jim regarded her indifferently. “What’s your name?” When Jim continued to gaze at her without the least bit of recognition she canted her head to one side. “Go on then with you! What’s your _name_?” When she received no answer, the little girl stated her own title; “Violet.” Jim blinked at her and she rolled her gaze and pointed to her chest. “ _Vi-o-let_. Violet!”

 

Jim rubbed his forehead and squinted at her finally declaring, “ _Jim_.”

 

Violet scrunched her nose at Jim, the freckles upon it bunching further together. “You smell like compost pile after a rain.” Violet watched Jim shift uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck one second then his hands seizing around his left leg the next. “Are you hurt Jim?” The little girl kicked at the side of his knee with the toe of her boot and Jim flinched, crying out sharply. Violet looked startled and turned to run away. As her little feet flew over the grass she shouted back, “I’ll bring help! I won’t be long!”

 

“Wait!” Jim called after her, reaching for her with his right hand. He realized he had scared her with his yap of anguish. And while she had been annoying if she ran to her village and informed them of his presence, Jim shuddered at the thought of becoming a slave once more and struggled to stand. He had to get away from the area and find a place to hide.

 

The landscape was all grass and up hill before him and the beach, sea and rocks behind. It took Jim several minutes, and he was sweating profusely, but he made it to his feet, placing most of his weight upon his right leg. Grunting and nearly collapsing with each step, Jim spurred himself forward. His body quaked, his heartbeat thundering and he made it a little way before he collapsed back onto the ground, falling upon his leg and howling in agony. His head spun, and the pain forced him into unconsciousness for several minutes. When he came too he heard horse hooves thundering in his direction. Large beasts they were, or so vast in number that it would be difficult to get a quick count. By the vibration of the ground Jim figured war or plow animals; either way he didn’t want to be trampled by them nor confronted by their riders. Once more choice was stripped away from him as he clutched at his left leg and gracelessly went unconscious once more. He heard the distant sound of annoyed and anxious chatter, violet’s tiny voice added to the mix. He was unceremoniously drug to his feet and dragged by two people to one of the horses.

 

When he set pressure on his leg he cried out, feeling himself being lifted and pushed over one of the horses into the saddle. He fought, and was roundly struck upside the head so powerfully he saw white. There was a shift in the horse’s weight and he felt the solid presence of someone behind him, and he was pushed forward over to lean upon the horse’s neck. Jim hissed with pain as the horse began walking and was turned around. He heard Violet chattering and felt like he was dying during the duration of the ride. The solid presence vanished, and he was yanked harshly from the saddle and collapsed upon the ground. Once more he was drug by two people; he heard so many voices but was far too out of it to focus his mind enough to see what was happening around him. There was abrupt darkness, slamming wood and the rustle of something he couldn’t identify. He smelled dung and that was his last conscious thought; that was until he was held down by many hands and his leg popped back into his hip socket. Darkness took him then and Jim was vaguely aware of swallowing various textures and tastes put into his mouth. He existed in a state between waking and sleep, living and death for many days. Finally, he opened his eyes and took in the interior of a barn, horses and a few cattle pinned separately from sheep and pigs. There was a lantern on an overturned bucket beside him and Jim pushed himself up onto his elbows.

 

How long had he been out of it? Where were his captors now? And, when would he be strong enough to escape them and head back to Gotham?

 

**Two**

The young man was beaten and injured. Word of debris of a ship and corpses washing up on the shore had been circulating in the latest gossip following the storm. The mark on the young man’s cheek was instantly recognizable as a slave brand. Harvey figured whatever owner had laid claim to the young male in the barn was with the sea gods now, or else waiting for a slaver’s ship that would never arrive. Rolland looked at it as being ill fortune, while Declan saw the slave’s arrival as a livestock boon. Harvey hadn’t made up his mind yet which of his brothers was right; the other two still at the neighboring Clan Hall trading goods. They would be home soon enough, and a vote would be taken to decide the man’s fate.  Harvey’s vote vacillated between the two options of killing or keeping him. While he would never admit it to his brothers, the slave warmed Harvey’s blood and thrilled him sexually. Brand or not, he was a handsome male, with ice blue eyes he had only seen the color of at the frozen river.  Harvey’s Clan only ever had one of two eye colors; blue or green; and the slave’s coloration was enticing.

 

However, pretty eyes and a handsome face weren’t going to save the man’s life either. When Aedan and Lochlan returned they would either side with Rolland or Declan. Harvey predicted that his vote would be the deciding one, carrying the most weight, as it seemed to most cases these days. Rolland and Aedan seemed the most concerned about attack on their Clan Hall from a neighboring settlement, while Declan and Lochlan merely wished to mind the land and their families. Harvey couldn’t blame them for their thoughts; two of his sisters; Sibeal and Tana; had been married off to other Clans in hopes of alliance building. Marion was the only sister that remained on the Bullock family soil, her husband recently killed during an invasion by a main land warlord. Harvey felt that the man in their barn would be able to take some of the additional responsibilities the Brother’s had upon their shoulders and perform tasks for Marion, that her husband had in the past.  That seemed the most beneficial to the Clan according to Harvey. All five brothers were freed from a responsibility yolk implemented by their sister, the slave served as he was born to do, and all was in balance with the gods. Now if he could make his four-other brothers agree with him the young slave’s life could be spared. And yet; the injured male was a stranger; most likely from the main land. What if he were a spy? What if he would take his duties far too seriously and think he was entitled to Marion’s bed? Would he be subservient to Marion’s children as well? Would he try and run away? Granted they were on an island but that was easily escaped by the smallest fishing boat if stolen. These were all considerations and most likely to be raised by his brothers and Marion herself. In the end the slave would do as he was told or face death. Harvey wasn’t a harsh man by nature, but there were particular standards to be held too, slave or named man.

 

Thusly, Harvey found himself pulling the barn door open and striding inside to check upon the slave. He saw the man sitting up and once more his stomach flipped over upon itself, his heartbeat quickening the closer he got to the lamp light to see the slave’s facial features.

 

“You’re awake. Are you in great pain?”

 

Jim’s head instantly snapped in Harvey’s direction and he swallowed. Harvey was a tall man, broad shouldered and muscular as the fittest warhorse Jim had ever seen. His brow furrowed as his blue eyes glistened in the lamp light, looking black instead of blue.

 

“What?”

 

“You don’t speak Galic?” Harvey asked with a little bit of authority to his tone. Dumbly the slave stared at him, squawked something and fell silent once more. Harvey ran a hand back through his thick, red hair and placed his hands upon his hips. “Do you speak mainland, North or Southern? West islander?” The slave continued to stare at him without comprehension and Harvey sighed and dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “You’ll need to be taught. I hope you’re as smart as little Violet said.” Harvey pointed at the slave and said, “Jim.” Eagerly Jim nodded as Harvey pointed to his own chest. “Harvey.” He then motioned to Jim to repeat the name.

 

“Harvey.” Jim said, earning himself an approving nod. He began to question Harvey further but was quickly shushed by him. Harvey moved to where Jim rested and placed a foot upon his chest, pushing him back down into the hay. Reluctantly Jim obeyed and lay back. Harvey said a word and removed his foot from Jim’s torso. He repeated the word again and closed his eyes for a split second. When Jim’s brow furrowed he repeated the word for a third time then pressed a cheek against his left palm and closed his eyes. “Sleep?” Jim stated before repeating the exact word Harvey had used prior. Harvey nodded, and Jim laid placidly upon the straw and waited for Harvey to exit the barn, taking the lamp; and only source of light; with him.  “Sleep.” Jim whispered to himself to remember the word. “Harvey and Violet.” He closed his eyes feeling exhaustion push at him once more. “Harvey.”

 

The following sunrise Jim was awakened by having a fourth of a bucket full of well water splashed over his face and chest. He gasped and sat up reactively, pain shooting through his leg. He cried out and placed his hands upon his leg, indignantly looking up into the severe; but somewhat pretty face of a woman. Her hair was the exact dark shade as Harvey’s, and she threw the bucket at him. He caught it.

 

“You’ve slept past sunrise, lazy bones. Ever want that leg to heal you’ve to walk on it, or the splint will lock it in place.” She turned and started marched out of the barn. “Now up with you if you’d like a crust of bread before y’get on with it.”

 

Jim looked at the bucket and then her retreating form and wished he could throw the bucket at her feet in protest. While he didn’t speak her language, he did know a barked order when he heard it. How he was supposed to guess what that direction was he didn’t dare hope. That was until his eyes settled on a small form at the barn door. It was a little girl, all red curls and a burlap brown apron dress with white wool shirt and sleeves, with blue-ribbon accents. She was peering at him intently. He attempted to get her attention, but she remained where she stood. Until abruptly Violet appeared from behind her and grabbed her little sister’s hand.

 

“See Lily? I told you he was real.” Violet dragged her little sister behind her as she approached Jim. She stopped a few steps back from him and smiled smugly at him. “Jim, you’re awfully lazy for a slave. Did you like being punished? Uncle Aedan says, ‘an idol man, is a shameful man’.”

 

“Violet.” Jim greeted. “Who’s this beside you?” When the pair of girls merely stared at him, he motioned to his chest and repeated his name. He then pointed to Lily. Violet released her sister’s hand and placed her own hand upon Lily’s shoulder.

 

“Lily.”

 

“Lily.” Jim repeated. He nodded and gave the little girl a smile. She promptly moved to stand behind her big sister. Jim addressed Violet. “Harvey?”

 

Violet rolled her eyes. “Uncle Harvey’s too busy to worry about you this morning. The harvest will be in soon, and he has too kill the feast cow for the god’s tribute. She reached out her hand to Jim. “Come on. You need bread and I’ll show you what you’re supposed to do.” For the rest of the morning Jim followed Violet; and sometimes Lily; around the settlement doing various chores. It was difficult to keep weight upon his left leg and he fell; numerous times, the splint making movement difficult, but he completed each task set before him to the best of his abilities. Farm work was difficult and tiring, but he wasn’t required to be naked and on his knees to perform to expectation. Still, he was slow to complete tasks, and for the most part everyone ignored him except for Violet. She chatted at him in a stream of consciousness words, and demonstrated his tasks for him. She seemed very pleased that he caught on quickly to what was expected of him and even patted him on the head a few times like one might pet a goat or dog.

 

Everything Jim did was under the watchful eye of Marion or another adult; yet oddly no one approached him except for the children of the settlement, that seemed most interested in the fact that Jim spoke with a strange accent and didn’t understand Gaelic. A little after the sun had reached its apex in the sky, Violet disappeared for a midday meal and Jim sat down for a much-needed rest. His relaxation was abruptly interrupted by Marion’s stern features once more. She thrust a metallic cup and folded cloth at him before stalking away back into the main Hall. Jim sipped water from the cup, and when he opened the bundle he found half an apple, some hard bread and a small wedge of goat cheese. All he ate greedily and was grateful for every swallow. Once his stomach had settled he wished that he were offered some potion or another for the pain in his leg. His hands were a bit shaky from it, and even a sip of liquor would have been welcomed. Following a short digestive period, Violet returned and reached for Jim’s hand.

 

“Come help me with the goats. You’ll love them. They’re my favorite and all belong to me. Not really, but I pretend they do. Harvey says I am at least worth, ‘three of the little buggers’.” She grinned up at Jim. “I think I’m worth at _least_ twelve.” The days that followed Jim was directed by Violet as to what to do, fed by Marion, and slept in the barn with the animals. He supposed he had been housed in worse circumstances, but he found the presence of the animals in the dark comforting in a way. Over time they grew used to his scent and were no longer leery of him.  He noticed Harvey several times and felt the weight of the large man’s gaze on occasion, but there was no further exchange between them.  In fact aside from children who were curious, Violet and Marion; no one took notice of, nor interaction with; him at all.

 

On the day Aedon and Lochlan returned from trading with other settlements, the Bullock Clan was in a frenzy of celebration and greeting. Jim was tasked with settling the horses of the riders and the oxen that had pulled the cart, while the Clan met in the grand hall for a feast and debriefing. It was well into the evening and Marion had not come with food, Jim supposed that meant he wasn’t going to get to eat until the morning. He wondered who the men were that had arrived, and if one of them was the chief of the settlement. Thus far he had believed it to be Harvey but as he didn’t speak their language he couldn’t be certain of anything. He had a smattering of words that Violet taught him. He wondered that while she might want to pick up a word or so of his own dialect why she was the only one in the Clan that felt that way. Jim tried not to allow the injustice to get to him, focusing instead upon learning their tongue as quickly as possible.  Knowledge was power; was something he had been told by one of his tutors; and Jim now saw the practical truth in the statement like he never could prior.

 

For Harvey the return of his brothers from trading was a tense affair. While he got news of one of his sisters; Sibeal; the matter of the found slave would be settled once and for all. It was after the news of trade had been told, goods purchased dived up between the Clan, and the main course served in the gathering hall, that the matter of the slave was raised and discussed. The families wanted to celebrate the return of the men and sing songs, play games, and dance into the night, but Clan business needed to be addressed. It was Rolland who brought up Jim’s presence first; gruff and concerned that he brought ill luck with him. A sunken ship and dead crew was nothing to take lightly in his stretch of the imagination, and Harvey supposed he had a valid point. However, he didn’t believe that Jim was a curse, based on his work alone around the farm, and how he responded to the children; even when they poked at him and jeered. Or were kind; yet firm; as Violet had been. Jim seemed to know his place and that was a positive sign in Harvey’s eyes.

 

Just as Harvey predicted all suspicions and hope filled fantasies were raised and his brothers were divided. What shocked him was that he didn’t have the deciding vote as the cast was four to one in favor of keeping Jim alive to be used as Marion’s household slave.

 

“I don’t trust him.” Rolland groused slamming a fist down upon the dining hall table.

 

“No one is asking you too.” Aedan informed coolly. “The fact remains that he is not only a slave but a stranger. He will be watched by everyone, and trusted by no one until he is proven.”

 

Rolland nodded in approval and Declan sighed heavily. “And when he proves himself worthy of our trust?”

 

Aedan scratched his beard at the chin and replied, “Then Marion has say over his fate.” Many voices uttered their agreement and Marion remained seated with her children, face dour and gaze narrowed. Next Lochlan called for a song and Harvey supposed the matter was decided. A couple of hours later he took some scraps of food and headed to the barn. He found Jim sat staring up through the slats of the roof at the stars. He jumped when Harvey entered the barn with a lamp in one hand and a small bundle in the other. He immediately walked over to where Jim sat and tossed the bundle at him. Jim caught it immediately and opened it, expression grateful upon seeing the food that it contained. He smiled up at Harvey and thanked him in passable Gaelic.

 

Harvey grunted. “You’ve been learning.” Harvey stated knowing fully well that Jim didn’t understand him. He motioned to the food laid out upon Jim’s lap. “Eat.” He instructed, before repeating the word and making a gesture of putting food into his mouth. Jim nodded and began to eat immediately, nodding and thanking Harvey once more. Harvey slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat watching Jim.  “I don’t know where you’ve come to us from, or why the gods have brought you here. Yet here you will stay with my Clan; for now; protected. But shy from your duties, betray my people or harm them in anyway, that shall be your death. If you understand one thing, understand that.”

 

Jim shifted his gaze between his food and Harvey while he spoke, picking out one or two of his words but nothing that granted him context. Electing to attempt kindness he held out his hand to Harvey, a bit of chicken in it. Harvey shook his head and Jim uttered, “Good. I’m starving.” He chewed and searched Harvey’s impassive expression. He was a handsome man, but Jim knew that having the brand upon his left cheek meant he would never be Harvey’s equal. It saddened him that even with a barbarian of the Clan’s ilk that Jim was his better, yet had no claim to it legally any longer.  “The food is good. What kind of celebration is it?” Harvey continued to stare at Jim not bothering to even attempt to comprehend what he said. “Just as well.” Jim stated giving his attention solely back to his food. “We don’t understand one another anyway.”

 

After a few seconds of silence Harvey sighed softly and Jim looked at him. Harvey said, “You’re a slave.” Jim’s brow furrowed as he realized Harvey was trying to say something to him. Harvey reached out and touched a finger to Jim’s brand, before pushing the palm of his hand to Jim’s breast plate and saying, “ _Slave_.” He repeated the action once more; touched the brand upon Jim’s left cheek and placed his palm upon Jim’s chest. “Slave.” Harvey then withdrew his hand and placed it upon his own chest and stated, “Named Man.” He motioned to the everything around them. “Free.” He lay the hand down upon his chest once more and declared, “Named Man.” He then pressed his hand to cradle Jim’s branded cheek before touching it to Jim’s chest once more. “ _Slave_.”

 

Any pleasure upon Jim’s expression leached out along with the color of his cheeks upon Harvey’s pronouncements. He swallowed and nodded. “Slave.” He pointed to himself first and then Harvey’s chest with his fingers resting lightly upon the older male. “Named Man.” Harvey looked pleased and clapped Jim heavily upon the shoulder, praising him with a single word that Jim recognized as meaning, ‘good’. He carefully folded the cloth around the remaining food and put it to the side, his appetite gone. He looked at Harvey and in Gaelic said, “Goodnight.”

 

Harvey’s brow furrowed. “Goodnight?”  Jim nodded and rolled onto his right hip and lay down, his back to Harvey. He waited for a few silent seconds and felt a boot nudge hard at his lower spine. Jim bowed away from the contact but did not face his guest of sorts. Harvey pushed Jim once more. “Look at me.” He ordered sternly. Jim continued to stare straight ahead, unmoving. “I said, look at me!” Harvey nudged Jim harder. Jim remained steadfast in his position. He heard rustling of the hay behind him and felt Harvey’s presence looming above him. The man stood on his knees and reached around Jim and seized his chin with his left hand. Harvey yanked Jim’s head around, forcing him to look up into his angry face. “Your life doesn’t belong to the gods, but to my sister. Do what you’re told, and you’ll live. Act like an ungrateful child and you’ll die. Don’t forget that!” Harvey yanked his hand away from Jim’s face and rose to his feet. He stormed out of the barn, causing animals to knicker and bleat at his departure.

 

Jim immediately rolled back onto his side and opened the bundle once more. He picked at the remaining food, feeding himself and wallowing in his own misery. He knew damn well he was a slave. He didn’t need anyone to point it out to him, as he could feel the truth upon his marred flesh, and in his weary bones. While he didn’t have to submit to sexual torture any longer it seemed; he wondered when the Clan would discover where his true talents lay? What if they wanted him to be the rutting relief for the men folk? He could always feel eyes upon him and forever wondered how they judged him. Weak? Unworthy? Disgusting? All things he felt in spades, and Harvey had reminded him of in a single language lesson. Violet had taught him the word ‘bad’ and he knew that it applied to himself. While she was far too young to understand why, he knew the adults would understand it in an instant. He was once a prince and now he was a prostitute and slave.

 

Harvey stormed into his home, not certain why he had done so except that he was upset and wanted to see the children. They forever were a sense of comfort to him. Now calling Marion ‘Mum’ after the death of their own mother and Harvey’s wife a few years before. She had died giving him a son, her heart giving out and devastating Harvey; the baby following shortly after. Marion was there tending to a few chores while the children slept. She had left the Clan Hall following the briefing to take the children to their beds. Lily had already been asleep on the walk over, and Violet yawning several times before setting foot in the house. Marion looked up at Harvey and shushed him.

 

“They’re sleeping. What’s wrong with you? Clomping in here like a heard of horses?”

 

“They’ll be alright. Violet can sleep through a war, and Lily goes right back down if y’wake her.”

 

“Think I don’t know that by now?” Marion demanded hands upon her hips. Harvey went over to her and gave her a hug.  “What’s got you in a fowl mood? The council agreed to the slave staying. I thought that’s what you wanted?”

 

“It is.” Harvey assured moving to sit upon a stool close to the fire. Marion walked over and sat upon another adjacent to him.  “He’s a funny one that, slave.”

 

“He’s from the mainland. Is that hardly surprising?”

 

“No.” Harvey rubbed a face down his face and met her gaze. “You don’t mind that he’s yours now?”

 

Marion sighed and shook her head. “I don’t rightly know what I think about it.” She wiped her left eye and cheekbone before meeting Harvey’s gaze once more. “I want a husband not a branded man.” She leaned forward and placed her elbows upon her knees. “If it were you, wanting a wife but getting a slave instead? Would _you_ be happy?” Harvey’s expression answered her question immediately. “I thought not.” She glanced at the window in the direction of the barn. “Should I look at him as a chance, Harvey?” She returned her gaze to her brother. “You’re still the father to the girls but a woman has needs.”

 

“There’s named men unmarried,”

 

“And none of them are here are they now?” Marion demanded without anger to her tone. She shook her head. “We both know that I can’t bare a child so I’m no prospect for a wife. He’s a slave with no hope for a life at all. We could help one another. If you’d give your blessing. The others will listen. If I had you in m’corner.”

 

Harvey bowed his head. “Marion,” He warned.

 

“Please?” She bade leaning forward to take his hands in her own. Their gazes locked. “I want to feel like a wife again.”

 

Harvey bit his bottom lip, “Is it what you really want, Mare?”

 

Marion kissed the back of Harvey’s hands and held his gaze, her own misting slightly. “What woman doesn’t want a slave for a husband?” She laughed without mirth and quickly wiped away a tear.  “What other prospects have I got? You could find another wife in a heartbeat, but for a woman? It’s different. I think you see that.”

 

Harvey nodded. “I do. I just,” He paused and ran his thumbs over the back of her hands. “Wish we didn’t have to have this conversation.”

 

“They died.” Marion said matter-of-factly and squeezed Harvey’s hands. “The girls are still yours. No one will ever be a father to them except you. But my needs are quite another matter.”

 

“You’re their Mum.” Harvey stated, his expression and tone preventing any further argument. “Once Jim proves himself, we’ll move him into the house and I’ll, go elsewhere.”

 

At that admission Marion was off the stool and encircled her arms around Harvey’s neck embracing him tightly. She kissed him several times upon the face and rose quickly, releasing him from her arms. She straightened her dress and wiped her face. “You are a kind man, Harvey Bullock.” She informed with a loving lit to her tone. Harvey said nothing and looked in her eyes. He felt a little bit of himself die at the realization that Jim truly would belong to his sister.

 

**Three**

As days wore on and Fall turned towards Winter, Jim noticed a change in his duties and treatment by Marion; her daughters; and the other Clan families. While they still didn’t interact with him yet from a distance, he was no longer the sole person that did the chores no one else wanted to do, or were used as punishments to light offenses. He was assigned chores that worked in conjunction with others, and Jim took to those with equal measure with the enthusiasm he had with his previous challenges. While he detested them in theory, in practice they weren’t that bad and filled his day. He was grateful to be out of a brothel or rut tent, and if that meant having to shovel dung or help harvest and store the last of the Autumn crops, so be it. The longer the Clan didn’t figure out his primary use, the better off Jim felt. The settlement was filled with brutes of man flesh and Jim gathered they would be as rough; if not rougher; than any soldier or government official Jim had faced.  It was clear that Rolland disliked him, and others in the Clan shared his sentiment. Jim could tell by their expressions when they watched him, or were forced to interact with him in any capacity.  At least Rolland was not the head of the Clan, that seat happened to be occupied by Aedan; or Jim’s fate would have clearly been worse.

 

As the first dusting of snow fell, Jim’s exile to the barn at night shifted abruptly. He was given a cot of sorts in the corner of Marion’s house. He thought it strange that she didn’t sleep there at night in her own bed, choosing instead to sleep at Harvey’s with the girls. Regardless of preference, she was there before sunrise every morning to wake him and set to the days tasks. The best news was that his grasp of Gaelic had vastly improved, immersion and necessity the best motivators. While he kept his improvements to himself, he continued his lessons with Violet and now Marion. She was able to teach him the more complex aspects of language where Violet kept his vocabulary simple. She would follow him around while he did his chores and babble at him, make him repeat her words regardless of his activity. Marion would demand full sentences while he helped her with the evening meal. Which was Jim’s favorite activity, as he sat before the fire while Harvey, Lily, Violet and Marion ate at a small, plank table just beyond hearing range if they whispered. They didn’t usually do so, therefore Jim smiled along at Harvey’s jokes and felt at ease as he ate a portion of food from the same meal the family dined upon. Jim liked Harvey’s easy manner and sense of humor. He was gentle with the children and Marion, boisterous and level headed when interacting with his brothers. Jim watched everyone closely as unobtrusively as he could. He began to learn personalities of the Brothers and discovered that of them, he liked Harvey best. Jim liked when Harvey placed a hand upon his shoulder, the gesture in passing; the grip firm, gentle and reassuring all at once. He was the only man in the settlement that if Jim were forced to submit to sexually that it wouldn’t be a hardship. Jim liked Harvey’s eyes, his smile, and found him quite attractive. He kept his notice to himself, questioning when he had shifted from being attracted to only women, to develop a liking for a man. Perhaps it was just Harvey that he found intriguing; the thought of taking anyone else to bed was presently abhorrent to him. Harvey however?

 

There was going to be a god’s feast in the Clan Hall. The women of the settlement; and Jim; were in a frenzy of activity to prepare for it. There were even cooking fires outside of dwellings to accommodate the special occasions food. Jim spent a lot of the day chopping the wood that was brought to him by the other men from the outlaying forest, as logs. He had stock piled quite a bit of wood for the Winter; his arms, chest and back the more muscular for it; yet this wood was to be dedicated to the gods. By the time midday arrived Jim’s hands were bloodied with blisters and he ached so that he knew he was going to have a restless night. He wished that he would be aloud to drink alcohol to dull the muscle pain, but as a slave it was forbidden.  That evening Marion was tired and looked at her bed longingly as she prepared to leave for Harvey’s dwelling.

 

“Stay?” Jim asked cautiously. Her features narrowed, and Jim motioned to her bed. “You’re tired is all I meant.”

 

Marion seemed to relax a little. “It isn’t done.” This was the only explanation she gave, putting a clean dress in her tote. She looked over her shoulder at Jim. “You sleep well enough without me here. Why should tonight be any different?”

 

“It isn’t.” Jim conceded sitting down upon the stool closest to the fire. He had washed his hands in water and soap. He was forever washing whenever the opportunity rose; daily if he could, and some in the settlement thought his fastidiousness strange. Marion however, indulged the practice. She saw him studying his palms and stepped forward.

 

“Let me see.” She frowned. “Harvey wrapped them so well. Why did you remove the bandages?”

 

“I wanted to eat without getting grease all over them.” Jim explained looking in her gaze. She was a pretty woman; fare of skin; had freckles covering her features, full lips and lightest of green eyes.

 

“Where are they?” She demanded with a huff. When Jim told her, she fetched them and returned, roughly taking him by one wrist and placing his hand in the position she wanted it in. She began to wind the bandage around his hand, almost to the first knuckle of his fingers, holding them together. “Next time he bandages you, leave it. He knows healing. Mom taught him the way of The Grandmother.” Jim looked at her questioningly and she sighed. “The Grandmother, is a legend in these lands. She lives in a forest; few people know how to find. She knows the ways of the earth; the old ways. Dark ways. She knows the ways of the skies; of the waters and the light. She taught my mother’s mother, and her mother before her, how to heal. Ma showed Harvey some of the healing she learned as a child. He has a hand for it.” As Marion finished her tale she finished wrapping Jim’s hands. “Now, leave them.” She watched Jim look at his hands, wiggle his fingers, flinch in pain and softly thank her.  Marion sighed and went to the sideboard and fetched a bottle of whiskey, poured some into a metal cup and returned to Jim. “Drink this.”

 

Jim’s eyes were moist with gratitude. “Are you sure?”

 

“Drink it. Before I change my mind.”

 

Jim obeyed quickly. The liquor was potent, his throat raw after downing the shot. He could feel the warmth of it seep out from the epicenter of his throat outward into his chest cavity. “Thank you.” He stated handing her the cup back tentatively.

 

Marion turned away from Jim abruptly and didn’t look at him as she put the cup away and said, “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow will be busy preparing for the gods feast.”

 

It was two days later when the celebration commenced that Jim was; again; in shock, as Marion accompanied Harvey and the girls to the Hall, pausing to collect Jim upon her way.  “It’s the gods solstice feast.” She informed him waving him over to her. Several feet away Harvey waited holding Lily in his arms and had one large hand around Violet’s. “You’ll have to sit along the wall, but we won’t let y’starve. Come on.”  Jim hesitated and stuttered out his disbelief. “Of course, I’m sure.” Marion informed sharply. “Come on. No one will say anything to you.” In the end Jim agreed and followed behind the small family.

 

The feasting hall was filled with everyone from the settlement. There were lanterns hanging from the center beams of the roof, and the scent of food was overwhelming. People were laughing and drinking, gathering food and finding places to sit at the table. Though the setting wasn’t ostentatious and the people in attendance dressed to show their vast wealth, Jim had never witnessed such a grand affair. The life force flooding the room, the merriment, smiles, laughter and families made Jim’s heart ache at the sight of it. He was alone, a damaged slave and with no hope of ever having children of his own. His pensiveness had no place at the feast and he pushed the morose thoughts away aggressively, watching Violet show off her newly made dress, and that of her little sisters to her Uncles and cousins. Harvey directed Jim to a single stool against the wall by the hall entrance. Jim wondered if it had been placed there especially for him as it seemed out of place even in the chaos of the celebration.

 

“This is where you’ll sit. Don’t go near the dinning table, but there’s plenty of food to be had. No one will stop you from taking your share.” He pointed at Jim. “Water only, touch the ale and there’ll be hell to pay. Yeah?”

 

Jim nodded and smiled at Harvey. “Thank you.” He said loud enough to be heard above the din of the festivities but not so loud that it would attract other’s attention. “It seems like years since I’ve been to a festival I could be a part of. It makes me feel human again; _alive_.”

 

Harvey placed a hand upon Jim’s shoulder and squeezed gently, his gaze locked with that of the younger male. “The gods walk among us this day; give thanks to them. I’ve aught to do any decision concerning you. After tonight you will be under Marion’s full order.”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Wait, I thought I was yours. What changed?”

 

A slow smile spread across Harvey’s lips and the hand upon Jim’s shoulder rose to cradle his right cheek. “You were never mine, Jim. Aedan leads; Aedan has whatever is most valued.” Jim felt Harvey’s thumb slide up his cheek bone and felt a shiver run down his spine, and then Harvey’s hand was off his face and back upon his shoulder. “Eat your fill tonight. It may prove to be a lean Winter.”

 

Jim watched Harvey walk away from him, profoundly feeling the loss of his touch. He watched the Bullock’s for a few more minutes before making his way to the food. As he sat upon his stool he could barely keep his eyes off Harvey for much of the night. Marion hardly ever cast him a glance, and neither did anyone else. He was alone; a piece of property to be traded from one hand to the next. Never mind that the Bullock’s treated him well; he was still a slave. Harvey had just proved it to him once more.  Regardless, Jim felt that if he was going to be relegated to be a slave for the rest of his life, the fact that he didn’t belong to Harvey all this time upset him. The fact that he wouldn’t belong to Harvey at all did as well. He supposed that it would be too perfect if he was; too much to ask for a master that he respected and liked. While Marion wouldn’t be a bad task mistress she ran hot and cold in her interactions with him. Harvey was consistent; Harvey was warm and thrilling to Jim; and Harvey was out of reach.

 

As the night wore on Jim listened to music, watched low key contests of strength, watched people dance, and children drop off one by one to sleep. They were placed upon straw mattresses at the opposite end of the hall, sleeping in clumps, monitored by all the adults. When the tales were told, some of the children woke up to listen, some returning to the dinning table, others laying warm in their temporary beds. The teller of each tale stood upon the bench seats where he or she was sat for their meal. Jim was happy that he understood more of the stories than he didn’t, his understanding of context growing rapidly still. The tales of their gods were bloody, sexual and filled with heroes and villains alike. Jim found them fascinating and eagerly leaned forward upon the stool, his elbows on his knees as he listened to story, upon story. Until the telling was growing quieter and he felt his eyes drooping. He peeked out of the Clan Hall door and was shocked to see that the sun had risen. Shortly following that the stories ended, and people began to claim their kin and wander back out in the direction of their homes.

 

Jim however, was sent out to get the animals out of the barn into their penned in areas or set them to roam free. He fed them and drew water from the well. The sun was climbing towards the noon hour when he was finished with his various morning chores and able to walk back to Marion’s house for a rest. Upon opening the door, he was surprised to find Marion seated by the fire toasting some bread. She looked up at him and while she didn’t smile, her features weren’t as severe looking as they usually were.  She said, “I’ve made stew.” Jim saw two place settings upon the table. Finished with the bread she placed it upon the plate and put the toasting tongs back with the poker by the fire. She made her way to the table and set the plate down. “Come eat while it’s hot.”

 

Suspicious, Jim moved in the direction of his bed. “That’s very kind of you but I was,”

 

“Siting at the table and taking a meal with me.” Marion reprimanded in interruption. “Are you telling me that you’d prefer not to have my hospitality?”

 

“I’m not saying that at all.” Jim assured holding up his palms in placation. “Breakfast I had by the fire and now I’m asked to dine with you. I don’t understand what’s changed.”

 

Marion folded her hands before her. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.” She said calmly and waited for Jim to comply. It didn’t escape his notice that he sat at the head of the table, in the chair Harvey usually sat in. Marion poured them water from a pitcher, served them toast and waited for Jim to begin to eat before she continued her explanation. “Aedan and my brothers agreed, that you would be my property following the god’s feast. Now they have agreed to let me take you as my husband.”  Jim nearly choked on his food and sputtered until she clapped him on the back firmly. “You needn’t die of such news. Am I repulsive to you?” she demanded bitterly.

 

“No!” Jim assured quickly. “Your no such thing, I,” Jim paused and gaped at her, both of his hands upon the table. “How? Husband? I’m branded,”

 

“And in a sense thus am I.” Marion said her spine ram rod straight. “I lost my husband. As a widow I can choose to marry again, but as you can see, there aren’t that many eligible men wanting to take on an aged widow that can’t bare them children.” She dropped her gaze for a split second and Jim saw shame color her cheeks. She raised her head and stared at Jim once more. “I need a husband, and you’d like the freedom that allows you.”

 

“Freedom?” Jim demanded like the word burned his tongue. “They made me a slave!” He hissed. “I’ll never be _free_ again.”

 

“To an extent, you will.” Marion informed him with a little steel to her own voice. “I was the wife of a Named Man. Plus I have my own name; a good, strong, Clan name. The brand on your cheek can be broken, thus by the laws of this land allowing you freedom from slavery. But you will never be a named man. You can’t hold land, but I have that. So, Jim? How’s that wee bit of freedom sound to y’now?”

 

Feeling a combination of betrayal and incredulous disbelief Jim stared at her, “I,”

 

“Don’t have much of a choice.” Marion reminded him. “I’m not an ugly woman. I know my way around a man and a farm. You won’t get a better offer than that from another that isn’t a slave such as yourself. That wouldn’t be legal, but this marriage; will be before the gods and all man.”

 

Jim dropped his gaze to the table and rubbed his forehead with a shaky hand. “Am I really what you want in a husband?”

 

“You’re kind enough. If you raised a hand to me, I’d cut it off with my previous husband’s war ax. You have no name to give children so why would you have them, if they would only be slaves as well? You’re handsome enough, a hard worker, what more could a woman need of a man?”

 

“Passion.” Jim stated before he could reign in his words.

 

Marion burst out into a gale of laughter. “Passion he says?” Marion shook her head. “I had that with my first husband. I don’t expect it again.” She searched Jim’s face. “You’re not a Rutting Boy are you?” She asked of his sexuality.

 

Jim blushed. “No.” Shame flashed within his gaze and he raised a hand towards his slave brand but stopped midway. “I want a wife. Wanted children.” His expression slipped to apology once more. “But you’re right; any children I have would be slaves.” Jim paused and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the ending he was hoping for, but it was a tangible one.  “How is the brand broken?”

 

“A blade.” Marion informed making an X over her left cheek. “Cut too deep and the cheek is an open wound forever. Cut wrong and you could catch your death with an infection. Cut just enough and you’re free from the yolk of slavery.” She searched Jim’s gray, blue eyes. “Will you ask Aedan for my hand?”

 

Jim swallowed. “Yes. As you’ll have me.” Marion nodded in agreement as if they had just conducted a business deal and not agreed to marriage. Jim picked up his spoon and began to eat once more. There would be more pain to his face; more scarring, but he wondered if Harvey would be the one to heal him and nurse his wound. He hoped so.

 

**Four**

The wedding took place on a rainy afternoon overlooking the ocean from a cliff side vantage point. Following the ceremony Jim was taken to the forge where he was held by Harvey, Lochlan, Declan and Rolland. Aedan took a red hot, nearly molten bladed knife and cut an X through the brand scar tissue. Jim screamed, passed out for a few seconds after it was over; his head hanging forward and the smell of burnt flesh seared into the air. Harvey held Jim’s face, left side down in to a bucket of water for several seconds before Jim was taken; dragged between Declan and Harvey; back to Marion’s house and deposited upon his cot in the corner of the room. There Harvey dabbed the wound dry and applied a salve that stank, and bandaged his cheek with fresh strips of cloth. Jim spent an agonizing next few hours until he was fed dinner and drank a few shots of whiskey. He slept through the night not even waking up when Harvey changed his bandages and applied more salve.  In the next few days Jim’s face healed exponentially and there was no sign of fever nor infection. His new chores altered yet again and consisted of taking care of his and Marion’s needs, plus helping with the communal chores everyone took part in to better the settlement. Gone was his sleeping cot and he instead slept in Marion’s bed with his back to her. She did not try to initiate physical contact and for that Jim was grateful. He was not prepared to perform such marital rites after having been a sex slave for so long. He had temptations; urges; yet they did not center around Marion or her touch. Harvey however, was still of interest.

 

Jim was taken on his first hunting expedition with the other Bullock brothers. In this act he had experience enough and could show his skill with a bow and arrow. Hours of chopping wood and doing physical labor had served him well and it was relatively easy for Jim to pull back the bow and out the string to let loose the first of many lethal arrows. Rolland; while not outwardly impressed; nodded at Jim once when he brought down a stag the angry Bullock had taken aim at with a spear. When it came to skinning, dividing their kills up for the settlement, the brothers laughed at Jim’s green-gray pallor, and novice abilities with the hunting knives. He cut himself rather than the beast and once more Harvey was wrapping a wound, this time one on his arm. He had placed a poultice there with various herbs and a salve beneath the bandages. Jim sat glum upon a bench outside of Harvey’s home.

 

“Didn’t trust you with a weapon, did they?”

 

Jim looked up from Harvey’s hands to his eyes. He always felt a jolting thrill whenever he locked gazes with the older male. Jim wet his lips before asking, “What?”

 

“You’re former masters. Didn’t let you hunt for them?”

 

Jim shook his head, cheeks warming with shame as he looked down at Harvey’s chest. “They had other work in mind for me.”

 

Harvey frowned, catching the deep sorrow that resonated within Jim’s tone. For now, he elected to spare the poor man and drop the subject. “I’ll have Declan teach you. Skinning and dressing the beast is just as necessary as killing it.”

 

“He’ll take that time?”

 

Harvey nodded and paused in his securing of the bandage, gaze meeting Jim’s. “Declan is as good as any butcher you’ll ever see with a knife.” Harvey smiled mischievously. “Besides, he owes it to his brother-in-law, yeah?”

 

Jim chuckled, the title setting weirdly within his mind. “Yeah, and what an accomplished man I am.” Harvey grunted, and Jim’s smile faded as he searched Harvey’s features, becoming lost to them.  “I look at her and I know I’m a disappointment. Not how she saw her life when she married the first time.”

 

“The gods have a will of their own.” Harvey commiserated softly smiling ever so slightly at Jim. “Marion is a practical woman. She knows her own mind, and will surely bend your will to her own, if I know my sister’s ways.”

 

“I wasn’t born a slave.” Jim shared abruptly seeing the consideration within Harvey’s gaze. “I was,”

 

“Jim?” Harvey warned gently though firmly. “Was, matters not. Not anymore. Only what is now matters to this Clan. The rest has come to pass, or not yet been. You see? Live now and be happy.”

 

Jim’s jaw tightened, locking and looked down.  “I’m not happy. I don’t think I ever have been.” Jim felt Harvey’s warm hand upon his shoulder and he pushed up into the touch, raised his eyes and smiled tenderly at the other man.

 

“Perhaps you will be here. If you want it.”

 

Jim nodded. “I do.”

 

“Then it will be so.” Harvey squeezed Jim’s shoulder. “Come see me in two days and I’ll change the poultice. Keep it dry until then.”

 

“I will.” Jim promised of more than just the dressing. He watched as Harvey rose to stand from his kneeling position. “Thank you, Harvey.” Harvey nodded at him and turned away to return to the doling out of the days Hunt.

 

“I’ll save you your portion!” Harvey teased over his shoulder. Jim couldn’t help but laugh a little. He was not the best husband in the world, but he vowed to try and please his wife; after all; she had saved him, and he had a lot to be thankful for. Harvey’s advice was sound; he should attempt to live in the moment and let the past lay for now. Not necessarily ignore it, but not dwell on it either. Finding the balance would be difficult but Jim figured with Winter’s arrival he would have some time to contemplate his situation.

 

Snow fell, his wounds had healed, and Declan had taught him about dressing a beast. Families moved into the Clan Hall for greater warmth and pooling of resources. When the close quarters became too much for Jim, or he feared his previous purpose coming to light; he would withdraw to the cold of the outdoors. Marion had made a coat for him; Harvey had provided the skins, but she had fashioned the wool lining and put it all together into a semblance of a garment. Now that he was not tethered to the settlement and could go where he pleased without an escort he would walk along the tree smattered shoal edge of the forest, or along the beach head if he was feeling extra pensive. Today was such a day, and Jim huddled in the warmth offered by his coat and stared out at the sea. The sea which had carried him from his home into slavery; the same sea he had traveled up and down the coast to various brothels and rutting tents; the very sea that had almost claimed his life. While Jim wasn’t one to believe in gods, he was able to appreciate fortune; both favorable and not; when it was placed before him.

 

Lily and some other young children had been playing in the long grass up the hill from the beach and noticed Jim standing alone. Frightened that he might drown, Lily ran back to the settlement to her father and told him of Jim’s peril. The adults had long told the children to stay away from the water when unattended, Harvey knew that the only way to quiet her concerns was to go to the beach himself. It He carried Lily upon one of his shoulders back in the direction of the grass and chased off all the children before moving down the beach head to Jim. The noise of the surf and his own thoughts prevented Jim from hearing or sensing Harvey’s presence until a large hand clapped upon his shoulder.

 

Jim started, and his expression flooded with relief when he saw it was Harvey. “Am I needed?”

 

Harvey shook his head and moved from behind Jim to stand beside him. “Were you going out for a swim?”

 

A slow, mirthless smirk curled the corners of Jim’s mouth. “I’ve had enough of the sea to last me a life time.”

 

“And yet, here you stand.”

 

Jim slid his gaze to Harvey’s. “Yet, here I stand.” He nodded and looked back out at the water. “Is she happy?”

 

“The sea gods?” Harvey’s smile brightened upon seeing Jim’s frustration. “She’s Marion. Happiness comes, and it goes.” Harvey paused and stared at Jim’s profile, watched him swallow and felt his stomach tighten with want. “Are you?”

 

“I’ve never been happy.” Jim informed Harvey looking at him. “Except, sometimes I feel _good_.”

 

Harvey’s hand tightened slightly upon Jim’s shoulder. “And what is the cause of that?”

 

“You.” Jim answered honestly. “When I’m with you, I can almost feel the happiness rising.”

 

“No burden lain upon my shoulders, yeah?” Harvey teased with genuine mirth. He left his hand sitting upon Jim’s shoulder, and watched the younger male shift closer to him in the sand. “Are you certain I don’t make you _happy_?”

 

Jim rested his scared cheek upon Harvey’s hand, rising his shoulder as well as if to embrace the older male’s fingers. “You may.” He admitted tenderly.

 

Harvey slid his hand from Jim’s shoulder and used it to pat him on the back, breaking the spell of intimacy they were cocooned in. “Does she know? That you prefer men in your bed?”

 

Jim tensed, the atmosphere between them shifting immediately to guarded anger. “I don’t. Just you it seems.” Jim looked back at the sea and took a reactive step to the side away from Harvey. “She, she doesn’t need to know because there’s nothing to tell.”

 

“Right.” Harvey mused staring at Jim’s profile, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. “And therein lies the problem.”

 

“Oh?” Jim attempted to sound aloof and unconcerned. “Why is that?”

 

Harvey reached out and touched Jim’s chin, slowly pivoting the other man’s head until they were staring one another in the eyes. He ran his thumb across Jim’s lips before withdrawing his hand. “Because I have a taste for both women and men. And now? I want you.” Harvey smiled, gaze pained. “Wishes and dreams are both the same; come the sunrise, neither remains behind.”

 

Jim turned fully to face Harvey. “What do we do? We feel the same for one another,”

 

“And you’re married to my sister.” Harvey reminded Jim gently. He shook his head. “There is nothing _to_ do for it. As I said, wishes are like dreams,”

 

“Both fade in the light of day, yes; I understand.” Jim reached out and took one of Harvey’s hands in his own. “But don’t tell me I can’t do more than wish for you.”

 

Harvey squeezed Jim’s hand before extricating himself from the younger male’s grip. “Go home to your wife Jim. Make peace with her and then we’ll see how we feel.” Jim huffed angrily, and Harvey clapped him upon the shoulder once more. “Now back we go. The children will think I’ve let you fall into the sea, and Marion’ll have work for us to do.”

 

“Harvey,” Jim pleaded making one final grab at his hand. “I won’t change my mind.”

 

“We’ll see love.” Harvey admitted, unable to stop himself from either uttering the endearment, or squeezing Jim’s hand. Reluctantly he disengaged from Jim’s grip and turned in the direction of the settlement. “It’s cold here.” Harvey complained walking away. Gaze longing and heart aching, Jim followed. For now, it was all he could do; all that Harvey would allow him.

 

Three days later Marion asked Jim to perform his husbandly duties and consummate their marriage. Accepting that refusing her would cause more damage than if he just surrendered himself and gave in, Jim had sex with her for the first time.  It was not passionless, but Jim felt no love for the woman, and he doubted she had much for him in return.  He used his skills learned from hours of practice as a prostitute slave and Marion was responsive and kind in return. Jim tried not to think of Harvey when he wound his fingers in her hair, or climaxed inside the warmth of her body. The event occurred during the late afternoon, Jim seated before the fire fixing tears in a smaller fishing net, while the wind outside blew strong and cold. He felt her pet his hair and looked up to see her staring down at him with an expression he had never witnessed upon her face. She bent and tested brushing her lips upon his, then asked, and Jim could hardly refuse her; even if he was not ready. He wondered if he would ever be ‘ready’ to indulge in sex willingly, but somehow, he deemed that if it were with Harvey he would freely engage.

 

As the weeks drug on the settlement grew colder and covered in snow. Nearly every family in the Clan lived in the feasting hall and barely left save for chores or tending to the animals. The fire pit in the barn was stoked non-stop and the animals spent less and less time away from the heat and comfort they received from it. Jim didn’t mind taking his turn tending the flames or the animals in the barn. Oft times the close living space and volume of people in the feasting hall caused him anxiety and he preferred to be alone. Ever since he had been branded he had never once been on his own; there was someone always watching, monitoring, ordering him around. In the solace of the barn he was isolated and at one with his thoughts and actions. Abruptly he was jarred from his thoughts by the opening of the small entrance door.

 

“I’ve brought you a meal.” Harvey announced closing the door behind him. There was a larger door for the animals, but it was far easier to keep closed when the animals were penned inside the structure, and use the alternate entrance. Harvey held up the food bundle in question and moved towards the center of the barn where Jim sat next to the burning fire. He sat down upon the second stool and handed the food to Jim, his gaze noting the pile of wood alongside of the pit. “Is our company that offensive that you’d rather freeze in here, than remain warm in the fellowship and comfort of the Clan Hall?” He winked, showing he was teasing and knowing damn well that sometimes solitude was a necessity.  “How are you?”

 

Jim shrugged, unwrapped the bundle and offered some food to Harvey. Harvey shook his head and Jim took a bite of bread, and considered his situation before answering. “I like looking at the stars at night. When the sky is clear, it’s beautiful.” Jim regarded Harvey carefully. “I’m content enough now.” He blushed slightly, “Even, ‘ _happy’_.”

 

While Harvey enjoyed the sound of that, he liked the sight of Jim blushing more. “Happy, are you? I thought you’d never been so before?”

 

Jim chuckled at Harvey’s recall of his confession a few days prior at the beach. “You’re here. What else could make me so?”

 

“Good point.” Harvey teased watching Jim eat in silence for a few seconds. “Have things changed with Marion?” The question was carefully worded, and even more strategically intoned. “She, she seems to be more of herself lately. More like she was when Ian was alive.”

 

Jim’s expression fell to shame and he looked quickly down at the flames between them. “I, I wasn’t aware she acted any differently.”

 

“Only those who know her best would notice.” Harvey assured Jim gently, disappointment tinging his own tone as well. “So, it has then? You and her finally consummated the union?”

 

Jim slowly drew his eyes up and to Harvey’s gaze. “It wasn’t my asking, but her own.”

 

“Oh, I know Marion has her own mind and it’s a strong willed, stubborn one.” They sat in silence for several seconds staring at one another. “Do you love her?”

 

Jim shook his head. “I didn’t even want to touch her. It’s expected and why should I punish her for my disinterest?” Jim shrugged. “Things like this are never fair.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Her husband dying and my having to fulfill his duties.” Jim’s eyes misted a little and he looked away, set the bundle of food down on the floor off his lap, his appetite dissipated. “It was best not to fight her.”

 

Confusion wrought Harvey’s features. “I thought you were attracted to women?”

 

“I _am_.” Jim insisted daring to look at Harvey once more. “But I want **you** , not her.” The admission hung in the air between them as silence reigned. It was hardly a shocking revelation, but the two seemed surprised by Jim’s no hold’s bared outburst regardless. Jim shifted a little in his stance and shrugged one of his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter though. You’ll not have me, because she’s your sister.”

 

“I’ll not have you because the gods brought you to her.”

 

Jim’s left cheek twitched, his jaw setting hard. “They brought me to **you** first. It was **your** daughter that found me. It was **you** that helped me to your homestead and healed me. It’s been **you** all along Harvey; not Marion that I’ve wanted.”

 

Harvey shook his head and severed eye contact for a few seconds. “Don’t say that. Don’t make this worse than it already is Jim.” He warned pointing a finger at the younger male.

 

Jim stood his ground, his jaw tightening once more, chin jutting outward in physical response. “It hardly matters what I say, Harvey. Either way you’re going to keep your distance because that is the man you are. The man you’ve chosen to be. I want you to know though, that if you ever change your mind; I will welcome you to my bed, or willingly come to yours.”

 

Harvey dragged himself quickly to his feet and fidgeted for a few seconds as if he couldn’t decide whether to stay or leave the barn. In the end he was annoyed and pointed down at Jim with his hand. “Don’t say things like that to me! It’s against your vow to Marion; the union the gods blessed, and I’ll hear nothing against my sister from you; or anyone!”

 

“I’m not _against_ her.” Jim protested softly gazing up at Harvey with moist, wide, eyes. “I just won’t ever love her because I’m already in love with _you_.”

 

Harvey growled and turned quickly on his heel. He escaped out of the barn and into the cold, Winter evening. It was like a slap to the face and blow to the solar plexus how frigid the air was in comparison to the warmth of the barn.  Scarred or not, Jim was beautiful; handsome. Harvey longed to take his lips in his own and taste him in an impassioned kiss. He wanted to strip Jim naked and feel every inch of him with his hands and mouth. Wanted to bring the younger male to the pinnacle of pleasure and hold him from falling over into the abyss of orgasm for as long as possible. He wanted to worship Jim; and make him forget the skills of every past lover he had ever had. He wanted to curl up against Jim all Winter long; talk for hours by the fire and learn the stories of Jim’s people. He wanted to know Jim’s thoughts as well as he did his own. He wanted Jim to look at him with the adoration of an obsessive first love, and gaze at him so in return. It was killing him that Marion was unified with Jim in a way that Harvey longed to be. His people didn’t have taboos against same gender couplings, so the only obstacle in Harvey’s way was Marion.

 

His beloved, older sister; possessed the one thing that Harvey longed for; Jim.  Harvey hurriedly made his way back to the Clan Hall his people. He envied every one of them their happiness and wished his sister’s husband Ian, had never gone into battle that day. If only. Harvey’s lungs burned with the cold and tears froze upon his cheeks. He pulled his coat and cloak tighter around him, and walked against the wind to return to the Hall.  Just another factor against him in a long line of misery.

 

For the next few days Harvey did his best to avoid both Marion and Jim. Jim returned to the Clan Hall and another man took watch of the fire in the barn. Every time Harvey happened to catch Jim’s gaze from across the chamber, his eyes were pleading with him, and his expression sad. What Harvey wouldn’t give to kiss away the younger male’s anxiousness; yet he continued to resist. Whether Marion noticed the shift in Harvey’s behavior he didn’t care to analyze. A howling blizzard came to entrap the entire Clan in the feasting hall for several days. To keep the peace and rattled nerves calm, stories were told by each and everyone in the Hall, or songs were sung, instruments played, poems recited, dances danced. Whatever talent anyone had was showcased for the entire Clan. People applauded and cheered one another enthusiastically thankful for the distraction from the sound of the wind howling outside. Two ropes had been tied from the barn to the Hall so that whomever was tending the animals in the barn could find his way through the storm to the hall and back again when the shift changed. Harvey enjoyed his turn standing on the grand, table top and reciting a legendary poem of battles fought, and loves won. He was free to look out over his Clan members; especially at Jim; while he recited each verse. It also meant that Jim could openly stare at him in return without potential protest from Marion.

 

Later, once Marion had sung a rousing Clan song, Jim was called upon to perform. He was grabbed and hoisted up onto the table by two of the Bullock brothers, and the smile and laughter evaporated from him instantly. He was called to choose a talent and share it, and sheer panic flooded his expression.

 

“Tell us a story of your people!” Lochlan called.

 

“Sing for us!” Marion challenged.

 

“Dance!” Declan shouted sloshing a bit of his ale onto some children accidentally.

 

There were whistles and demands made of him, the more noise and suggestions hurled at him, the more panicked Jim became. Harvey had been leaning against a support post and realized that Jim was truly terrified, his body quaking with the anxiety of it all.  Harvey began to push his way through the cluster of people before him towards the center table, shouting for everyone to quit their bellyaching and cat calls, and let the poor man speak for gods sake. Harvey reached the table and looked up at Jim, reached out with a hand and grabbed him by a wrist. Instantly Jim was galvanized and locked onto Harvey’s gaze alone.

 

“What is it, Jim? Not a performer, yeah?”

 

Jim blinked at him with huge, liquid, eyes and shook his head and stuttered, “I, what I know how to do isn’t,” Jim paused, lips parting and no words tumbling forth for several panicked seconds. “I can’t Harvey. _Please_ ; get me out of here.”

 

Harvey nodded in response and carefully pulled on Jim’s arm to help him step down onto the bench off the table. He was about to move into the jeering crowd, when Marion arrived and looked from Harvey to her husband.

 

“You’re not shy, are you? What’s going on?”

 

Jim looked at her, pale and floundering as he uttered, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I just; I **can’t**.”

 

“It’s all right.” Harvey assured him, placing one hand upon his back, the other now rested on his bicep. “I’ll take him to the barn to settle.” Marion nodded, expression concerned, and she allowed Harvey to whisk her husband towards the Hall doors. People continued booing and threw a few pieces of bread or food at them in passing, Harvey shouting at them to mind their own businesses and stop acting like spoiled children. Marion began yelling at them too, and soon the crowd turned their attention to another performer, who hopped up onto the table with a lyre. Harvey navigated Jim quickly to the doors and they dressed quickly in coats and Harvey threw his cloak over Jim instead. Two men helped the open the doors just enough to slip out into the dark night, snow swirling around them and nearly instantly freezing their lungs.

 

Harvey placed one arm around Jim’s waist and instructed him to, “Hold on to me!”, as he used the opposite hand to clench the rope that would lead them to the barn. It seemed to take forever for them to make it to the secondary structure, and they nearly fell through the small entrance, surprising the man tending the fire.  “Stand back from the pit!” Harvey ordered half dragging Jim over to the fire. They barely felt the heat at first, but soon enough Harvey began to slowly peel their exterior garment layers off. He threw them down upon the ground a bit away from the fire pit, and informed the third man that he was relieved of duty. Gladly the man scurried to don his own coat and cloak, and headed back into the night and toward the warmth and embrace of his people.

 

Once they were alone, Harvey helped Jim sit down and he fell to the floor with him. He had his arm securely around Jim’s shoulders and used his opposite hand to rub the circulation back to life in Jim’s chest.  “We’ll be warm soon.” Harvey promised, noticing a couple of stools across the fire from them. “Here, I’ll get us something to sit upon,” He made to move away, and Jim’s arms flew around him and tightened in a locked embrace.

 

“No!” Jim protested. “Stay. _Please_?”

 

“All right, Jim.” Harvey reassured him using the hand that was once upon Jim’s chest to smooth the snow out of his hair, much like he would caress one of his daughters when she was afraid of the night.  “We’ll sit as we are.” He shifted a little to get more comfortable, nearly pulling Jim across his lap. Jim burrowed his face into Harvey’s chest in response. They sat for several minutes, Harvey holding Jim until he stopped trembling. It took quite a while, as it wasn’t the cold outside that had him quaking, but his fear. Once he was calm and his embrace relaxed a little Harvey began to stroke his blond hair once more.

 

“I was a slave for four years.” Jim explained softly. “Before that I was a prince; of Gotham.” Harvey arched an eyebrow and tensed slightly upon hearing the name of the province Jim was from on the mainland. He recognized it immediately as it was one of the larger regions of land. Jim was quiet for several minutes allowing Harvey to consider whatever he wished to about Jim’s previous privileged life. It was more than obvious that he had shoved that aspect of his birthright away entirely, and that it brought him great pain to discuss it.  “I lost in battle and was sold by the enemy to slavers. Branded, I was taken to market and trained by the slaver before I was auctioned off to the richest purse.” Jim swallowed, and his left hand curled in a fist around Harvey’s outer shirt. “To a brothel owner.” Jim whimpered unintentionally as he felt Harvey tense in fury, assuming it was in disgust.  “I worked the rutting tents up and down the coast for festivals and wars. In the Winter I had my own room in brothel’s. Not for my own lodgings, but for my trade. I made my ‘master’ very rich.” Jim swallowed and burrowed his face even more against Harvey’s chest, attempting to hide beneath the fabric he had clenched within his hand. “I’m terrified that your Clan will find out; send me back to the first slaver or rutting tent they find. As afraid as I’ve been, I rejoice at the fact that I haven’t had to sleep with anyone for months now. Until Marion; but as I said, that’s to be expected of a husband.”

 

Harvey clutched Jim’s head to his chest and closed his eyes. He pressed his lips against the crown of Jim’s head and placed a long, tender, gentle kiss to it.  “And even that is torture for you?”

 

“Not so much as it is a necessity. I know I’m lucky to be here. Most of the time I just close my eyes and think of you instead. Wishing.” Jim paused. “I know it’s foolish but, you’re the first person I’ve wanted to take to my bed since I was a prince. **You** ; not Marion; not _anyone_.”

 

Harvey kissed the top of Jim’s head once more. “How could the gods have done this to you?” He whispered in pained demand.

 

“Make a whore of me?” Jim asked just as quietly; he was reluctant to tell Harvey that he didn’t believe in the gods.

 

Harvey kissed his crown. “Now you’re a freed man.”

 

“Married to the wrong Bullock sibling.”

 

Harvey’s shoulders rounded forward in defeat.  “If we tell her your past, she,”

 

“May not want me as her husband?” Jim interrupted in demand. “She’ll condemn me for withholding that information and lying. It will just hurt her.” Jim tightened his arms around Harvey again. “She’s been kind; how can I do that to her?”

 

“I know.” Harvey conceded whispering. He swallowed and said louder, “I still want you.”

 

The admission broke a sob from Jim, which he then quickly suppressed. “Please, let me feel free beneath your touch?” Jim raised his head and locked gazes with Harvey. The hand that was clutched in his tunic shirt, moved to comb back through his hair before it cradled his right cheek. “I need you.”

 

Harvey’s only response was to kiss Jim reverently, consider his wide, blue, eyes and kiss him once more. This time with extreme passion.  Jim opened his mouth easily to Harvey and pushed himself up and across to straddle Harvey’s lap.  His fingers closed around clumps of Harvey’s hair as they kissed, and he ground his lower body against Harvey’s in affirmation that he was desperately wanted. Harvey’s hands began to move upon Jim’s body, burrowing beneath his clothes trying to find bare skin to traverse. Jim helped him by peeling off his tunic and undershirt quickly, exposing his torso to the warmth of the flames and Harvey’s inspection. Harvey cursed in awe of Jim’s build and the fact that he was even touching him in the first place. Jim rose up onto his knees and opened his breeches, stood quickly and yanked off his boots one at a time. He tossed them aside and dropped his pants exposing himself fully to the chilled air. Harvey nearly swallowed his tongue in appreciation of the sight, and Jim dropped back to straddling Harvey’s lap.

 

“How can anyone be so perfect as you?” Harvey asked breathless and wanton. “I could never tire of looking at you naked.”

 

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity too.” Jim vowed swallowing Harvey’s mouth in a deep kiss. It was some time before they severed it, and by that time they were both panting quickly for oxygen. “Now you.” Jim urged tugging at Harvey’s tunic.

 

“As you command.” Harvey grinned helping Jim to quickly divest him of his clothing. Now both naked, they used their discarded coats as a mattress for the dirt floor where they lay by the fire. Unable to restrain himself any longer Harvey surrendered to his baser instincts and allowed himself to explore Jim’s body in full. Jim responded eagerly, with real passion and not dissociative silence. He meant it when he moaned, caught up in the pleasure of Harvey’s touch. He returned the caressing in kind, causing Harvey’s eyes to roll back in his head when his mouth closed around his cock and he pushed Harvey’s length deep into his throat in a single motion.

 

Marion was growing concerned. Harvey hadn’t returned yet from the barn. She doubted Jim would, knowing his penchant for wanting to keep the pit fire burning when the company in the Clan Hall became to overwhelming for him. She had never known a man so shy, or expectant of his own privacy than Jim. The hour was growing later, and she knew he might be hungry by now, so she gathered him some food and donned her coat and headed out into the frigid night. She made it to the barn, and as she was struggling with the door to push her way inside, the sounds emitting from the interior did not register with her as requiring instant definition. By the time she latched the door closed the moaning was so loud that when Marion pushed the hood of her coat back and saw her husband and brother by the fire, her mind seized in disbelief. Harvey stood upon his knees and was fucking Jim from behind; who was on all fours. Both men too engrossed in their coupling that they didn’t notice nor register Marion’s presence.

 

Marion felt the world shift sideways and she nearly collapsed as she saw Harvey pull Jim up onto his own knees. His arms gently embraced the younger male and cradled him, while Jim arched his neck back and kissed Harvey with more passion than he had ever kissed her with in all the times they had lain together. When the kiss severed, Harvey began feasting upon the column of Jim’s elegant throat, as Jim sang his praises to the ceiling of the barn. How many times, Marion wondered; had they done this? How many times had he been taken to Harvey’s bed when Marion was no where near them? How could Harvey do this to her? How could Jim? Did the vow of their marriage mean nothing or so little, that Jim would dare defy the gods? Marion stood and gaped at the two men for quite sometime before she could move. And when she did it was to stride forward and not retreat.

 

Marion Bullock was not one to be taken advantage of, nor was she one to surrender something she believed in without a fight. Ian had loved her strong will and independent mind, and Jim had been aware of those attributes when he agreed to marry her. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise to them both when she began slapping the hell out of both men and cursing them for their deceitful actions. Jim sat curled up into a ball, staring at her in horror; while Harvey grabbed her by the wrists to get her to quit striking them. She kicked him, and he released her, and she took a few steps back from them, sweeping her hair back with a forearm quickly before spatting in their direction.

 

“ _This_ is how you thank me for **freeing** you?” Marion roared at Jim, pain clearly etched in her features.  “I raised you up from a slave and take you as my husband. And for what? For you to offer your arse to my **brother**?” When Jim said nothing in return, Marion turned her fury upon Harvey. “And you! You backstabbing, duplicitous, right **bastard**! How long have you been fucking my husband? Before our wedding? The day of? Every night I wasn’t?” She looked at Jim again as Harvey scrambled into his trousers. “Is that why you were put off me? You were too tired from spreading your legs and wiggling your arse for **him**?” Marion pointed to Harvey in emphasis. Harvey moved to her, now that he was half dressed, and reached out for her. She slapped his hands away and screamed at him, “ _Don’t_ **touch** me!”

 

Jim moved slowly and found his tunic, slipped it on and remained on his knees, sat back on his heels, head bowed and tears in his eyes. He hadn’t ever wanted to hurt Marion, and he didn’t want stop being with Harvey just because she had discovered his infidelity. He was terrified that Harvey wouldn’t want to make love to him any longer. Marion, he could live without, yet Harvey he could not.

 

“Marion,” Harvey began reaching out to her, yet not daring to touch her. “Listen, it’s not like you think.”

 

“It’s not like you had your dick up his arse? Are you telling me I’m blind, Harvey Bullock?”

 

“No, no I’m not.” Harvey assured her trying to reason with her while her fury still had free reign. It wasn’t the most productive opportunity to try and explain the situation to her, yet it was the one he was granted. “Let me tell you about Jim’s past,”

 

“I don’t give a horse’s cunt about Jim’s _past_!” Marion roared motioning to Jim. Jim cowered a little.

 

“Harvey?” Jim pleaded. “Don’t.”

 

Both Marion and Harvey looked at him. “I think it will help her understand.” Harvey turned to look at his older sister.

 

“Understand? That he’s a rut boy and never told me the truth?”

 

“He’s **not** a rut boy.” Harvey silenced attempting to keep his own anger in check. “He just hasn’t wanted to take anyone to his bed in the past four years aside from, well, _me_.”

 

Outraged, Marion punched Harvey in the face. “That is supposed to make me feel better?”

 

“No,” Harvey snapped testing to see if his nose was unbroken. He lowered his hand when he discovered it wasn’t harmed beyond the sting of her punch. “You don’t love him Marion. He’s your husband yes, but his heart is mine. I’m sorry, but that’s the way of things. Now, shall we discuss what to do about this cockup?”

 

“What to do? What we need to do is kill the both of you for ever humiliating me this way!”

 

“It’s not like anyone except the three of us knows!” Harvey shouted back in his sister’s face. “Marion, use the sense the gods gave you,”

 

“I’m not the one that fucked his sister’s husband! Don’t go lecturing me,”

 

“Stop it! Both of you!” Jim shrieked. Horses whinnied, and other animals protested at Jim’s abrupt outburst. He was now standing with his tunic and breeches on. He looked at Marion first to address her, as she knew the least. “Marion, I was sex slave. For four years I fucked and was fucked by anyone that had coins to offer. I was ashamed; I never wanted you to find out. I married you because it was a good bargain for the both of us, just as you said. I knew I would have to take you to the marriage bed, and I was prepared for that. But,” Jim paused and motioned to Harvey. “I’m in love with him. I’m sorry, but I’ll never feel about you the way I do for Harvey. And I understand if you want to divorce me and take back your name, property and life.”

 

“You, _understand_?” Marion demanded stepping forward with each word, until she was just a mere foot and half from Jim. She hauled back and cuffed him on the left side of his face so hard that his ears were ringing with it. He endured her abuse and then straightened his form awaiting the rest of her attack. “You want the divorce, so you can marry him, don’t you?” Marion motioned to Harvey with a hand. “What about what **I** want? What about what **I** need? You two run off into the sunset holding hands and what security am I left with? I’m a named woman but I have _no_ husband, Jim. That makes me no better than you, now does it?”  Jim flinched at the implication; in pain as if she had struck him again. Marion eyed his expression keenly. “No, you don’t get to divorce me.” She turned to look at Harvey. “And you don’t get to have what’s mine.”

 

Harvey pleaded with his sister boldly. “How does that make you any better than any the slavers, Marion?” Harvey asked desperately. “You’re imposing your demands upon him just the same.”

 

“I never pretended this union would be made of love, did I?” Marion hissed at Harvey. “He chose me, and now he’s got to lay in the bed he agreed to.” She turned and looked at Jim. “Unless you want to go back to being a slave. As a named woman I can sell you to Harvey, but you will never be a free man again.”

 

Jim looked at Harvey then met Marion’s gaze. He straightened a little, his expression soft, his tone gentler; eyes misted with tears. “Then I will be his slave. I’d rather be owned by him and be indentured, than free and live without him.”

 

“Jim,” Harvey pleaded from behind Marion. “Don’t say that.”

 

“I love you.” Jim reasoned looking past Marion at his man. “Nothing; no one; made me happy until you.”

 

Marion burst into tears abruptly garnering both Harvey and Jim’s focus. She covered her face with her hands and moved away from then, reached out until she felt a support post and leaned against it. She wiped her tears away angrily with the back of her hand and wrist.  “Why Harvey?” She asked sounding lost and bereft.

 

Touched, Harvey moved towards his sister and reached his arms out to her in invitation. She stepped forward and into his embrace. Harvey closed his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Marion. I know this isn’t what you ever wanted.”

 

“I miss him so much.” She sobbed of her husband, Ian.

 

“I know you do.” Harvey empathized as he rested his head upon hers.

 

“Don’t you miss, Scottie?” She asked of his dead wife. He tensed, and Marion pulled back enough to wipe more tears away. She composed herself a little and said, “Not now since you have Jim, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Harvey replied stroking out her hair. She nodded and cleared her throat, stemming her tears to halt. “I love him.”

 

Marion looked from Jim’s pathetic visage to her younger brother’s. “Once a widow, then a bride, now a spinster.”

 

Harvey kissed Marion upon the forehead and hugged her tight. “Come Spring I’ll take you to Wellington Harbor. We’ll find you a man worthy of a Bullock.”

 

Marion shook her head and pulled back from Harvey’s embrace. “I’ll have Rolland take me. You’ll be too busy with the girls and,” She paused and swallowed. “Jim.” Marion looked at Jim. “Once a slave, wed to a Bullock, to be passed to another of the Clan.”

 

“I thought the law was that I could never be a freed man if I divorced you.” Jim questioned in confusion.

 

Marion smiled. “You’ll be marrying back into the family, of the Named. As far as the Clan says you will have always been married to Harvey, not me. That way anyone that questions your freedom have to answer to the Bullock’s. Something no man would survive.”

 

Jim smiled and moved towards Harvey and Marion. Reaching them he reached out for Marion’s hand and placed a kiss upon the palm of her hand. Eyes shining, he looked up through his upper eyelashes at her. “Thank you, Marion.”

 

She nodded and cradled his left cheek in the palm he had just kissed. “Take care of him, and never stray. Do that and I’ll cut your cock off and feed it back to you through your gullet.”

 

“I promise to never stray from Harvey.” There would be no reason too.

 

A few minutes later Marion headed back out into the snow storm ridden night. She made it back to the Clan Hall safely and spent the rest of the night cuddled between her two nieces. Once she was gone, Harvey secured the door and returned to where Jim was standing by the fire pit waiting for him. They kissed and wrapped his arms around Harvey.

 

“We’ll marry in the Spring.” Harvey vowed stroking a hand over Jim’s scarred cheek.

 

Jim chuckled and rubbed the left side of his head as Harvey lowered his hand. “Marion can really strike hard. My ears are still ringing.”

 

Harvey took Jim’s face in his hands and peered into his gaze for several breathless seconds. “You never raised your hand to her. I’m proud of you. A lesser man would have.”

 

“I don’t strike women.” Jim informed Harvey pushing in close and taking his lips briefly with his own. When the kiss severed he rubbed his hands down Harvey’s back. “We were in the middle of something important when she found us.” Jim prompted pressing his hips against Harvey’s. “Do you think we could resume where we left off?”

 

“Mmmm, I could be persuaded.” Harvey grinned mischievously. He kissed Jim passionately. While it might be a long, exceedingly harsh Winter, Harvey was convinced that come the Spring, Jim would have been living feeling one emotion; unadulterated happiness. He was right, because when the snow melted Jim had a Clan, two daughters and a soon to be husband. He was beginning to believe that there were indeed gods, and they had brought him to the Bullock Clan for the very purpose of loving Harvey and being loved in return.


End file.
